The Lost Boy

by Kate Moira Ryan

  “You must protect Berlin at all costs in order to achieve the final victory,” the Führer said. “Keep fighting with an iron will! Heil Euch!.”

  When the ceremony was over Karl looked at the Iron Cross, stupefied. He had not earned this. He wanted to tug it off. Axmann came over to him.

  “You will earn the Iron Cross by being my courier. Can you ride a motorbike?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” Karl said.

  “You are small and presumably fast. You will be able to run back and forth from here to the Chancellery,” Axmann said.

  “The Chancellery, sir?” Karl asked.

  “The Führer’s headquarters is located below us, deep inside the ground. Come, I need to go over to the Chancellery. I will show you the route and where you will wait for communiques,” Axmann said as they reached the secret underground main entrance of the Vorbunkerlower bunker, the Führerbunker located below.

  “You will be running messages between the situation room and the radio room. Come, let me show you,” Axmann led Karl past an emergency hospital located below the New Chancellery above the Führerbunker.

  A woman in a bloody white apron, stood smoking a cigarette. She nodded at Axmann.

  “This is Dr. Gertrud. You will also be picking up and delivering medical supplies for her as well,” Axmann said as Karl put his right hand up in a salute. She nodded.

  “They’re getting younger everyday,” she said wryly, throwing her cigarette on the ground.

  Recognizing Axmann, the door was pushed open. Karl could feel the dampness and see the walls sweating as they descended into the Führerbunker, a seemingly endless maze of rooms. People were everywhere; the smell of human sweat and the sound of men shouting. Karl followed Axmann into the hall.

  “Wait here,” Axmann said. He opened a door to the telephone switchboard. Men were on the call board, shouting into the phone.

  A large man came out of the switchboard room. He looked at Karl then turned to ask, “Is this the new courier?”

  “Yes, Obergruppenführer. That is the courier,” said a radioman inside the room.

  The large man walked off, shaking his head. Karl would find out later that was Martin Bormann, Hitler’s right hand man.

  “So you’re what’s left, huh? Okay, listen up. Outside is Nico on a motorbike. You are going to deliver orders to the Oberleutnant of the Kampfgruppe Gutschke in East Berlin. You will explain to him that in no uncertain terms should he retreat. He needs to fight the Russians head-on and hold the Biegen-Jacobsdorf-Petersdorf-Petershagen line. Is that understood?”

  Karl raised his right hand in a salute, “I will deliver the orders.”

  He handed Karl a leather satchel. “Put that on your shoulder, bandolier style. Here let me help. How old are you, anyway?” he asked as he adjusted the satchel.

  “Ten,” Karl said.

  The radioman sighed and gave him a pat on the shoulder

  Outside the Chancellery a teenager on a motorcycle was waiting. “Hop on, I’m Nico.”

  To Karl, he looked to be in his late teens. Unlike Karl’s, his HJ motorbike battalion clothes were splattered in mud. “Put your helmet on, it’s good for when the shrapnel comes flying. And here’s an extra pair of goggles for the dust.”

  They rode through bombed out streets, which were being shelled at such a regular pace Karl began to get used to the sound. When there was a moment without a blast, he lifted his head up from Nico’s back and looked around. People were scarce. The few he could see were dodging in and out of buildings, hurriedly pushing their belonging in wagons or wicker baby carriages. Everything was so gray and dusty, Karl imagined they were on the moon. Perhaps they were. Nico turned on a side street, “We’ll take some longcuts as I call them. It will take us a bit longer, but we’ll be less likely to be hit by rocket launchers. So hold on, kid.”

  Karl held onto the motorbike for dear life. When they approached the Autobahn, Nico swore; it was teeming with people trying to flee.

  “They’re not supposed to be on the Autobahn,” Nico said, swearing, trying to weave through the throngs. From the corner of his eye, Karl saw an old man take the revolver of a soldier and shoot himself. Karl closed his eyes. It made the sounds louder, but the images disappeared. He soon fell asleep. When he awoke, Nico was talking to an officer.

  “Listen, you and the kid go past this point, it is suicide,” the officer said, looking at Karl. A plane came from above and started firing directly onto the Autobahn. The officer flung himself to the ground. Nico revved his engine and made a hard right turn onto a side road. They drove until they came to a village. A lone soldier pointed them in the direction of another village. The shelling became more intense. They were headed to the front now. Nico stopped and pointed to a farmhouse in the distance.

  “Kid, I can’t get us any closer. You’re going to have to crawl on the ground to get the orders through.”

  Karl swallowed. He climbed off the motorbike and dropped to a crouching position. He ran as fast as he could in a zig-zag pattern. When he got to the farmhouse, he saw three Hitlerjugend boys: one was dead, one was shaking, and the other was firing a machine gun. Karl had to shout over the shooting to ask where to find the commanding officer. The shaking boy pointed upstairs. Karl noticed the shaking boy had wet his pants.

  Karl climbed the stairs two at a time, then ran into a room. Oberleutnant Gutschke was studying a map. He looked up at Karl, who saluted and handed him the letter.

  Oberleutnant Gutschke nodded, “Tell them, we will not retreat, but we need reinforcements, reinforcements, reinforcements. Do you got that, kid?”

  Karl nodded. Before he could leave, Oberleutnant Gutschke grabbed Karl by the collar, “You’re coming from the Führer’s bunker, right?”

  Karl nodded. He smelled cigarettes, piss and vomit, which made him want to heave.

  “Tell the Führer we need the miracle weapon now!” The Oberleutnant looked earnest in his appeal. “We’ll hold on to the last man, boy, whatever, but we need those miracle weapons.”

  Karl nodded and ran down the stairs as shells exploded around him. He locked eyes with the boy who had wet his pants. The other boy, the one firing the machine gun had stopped and was screaming at him to fetch ammunition. A bullet hit the other boy mid-yell, slamming him back towards the ground.

  “Take me with you,” the boy with the wet pants said. “Take me with you!”

  Karl ran out as the boy continued to scream. Again he zigzagged. Then suddenly he felt something nick his arm and a burning feeling overcame him. He had been hit. He reached the motorbike and hopped on.

  “Looks like you’ve been hit. Let’s get you back.” Nico did not ask whether Karl had delivered the letter or not. Karl wondered if he cared at all.

  When they got back to the bunker, Dr. Gertrud cleaned out his wound and put a substance on it that smelled like tar.

  “I’m going to need you pick up some medication for me — and water,” she said, writing down an address. “Give this to Nico, and be quick about it.”

  Karl spent the rest of the day carting water and delivering medicine. That night, he slept in the anteroom outside the radio operators. A shell woke him in the middle of the night. From his cot in the anteroom, Karl saw himself staring at a man who seemed ghostlike. The man caught his eyes, nodded and then walked away. It was Hitler.

  One day passed, then another. Each day started with a rushed breakfast of bread, canned meat and hot coffee, which Karl wolfed down. Things were getting more desperate. Mrs. Goebbels showed up with her six children, one more playful than the next. The oldest, a girl named Helga, was older than Karl. She looked at him curiously, then smiled shyly. Just as he was about to smile back, Mrs. Goebbels called to the girl. She disappeared and the door to the radio control room opened.

  “Kid, you’ve got to go to the Pichelsdorf bridge and tell Hauptamtschef Dr. Schlunder that he needs to hold the bridge until General Wenck arrives with the 12th Army. The bridge is our last lifeline in and out of
Berlin.”

  En route, Karl closed his eyes behind his goggles. In his mind, he became invisible. Nothing could touch him. If he opened his eyes, death would surely come. He knew it. So he kept his eyes closed until Nico stopped the motorbike. Karl pulled up his goggles, then hopped off. His feet felt unsteady as he ran towards the bridge. Unlike the farmhouse, the bridge seemed well-manned.

  When he reached the Berlin side, he asked a Hitlerjugend the whereabouts of their leader, Hauptamtschef Schundler. The boy motioned behind him. Karl crouched down and ran through, trying not to trip over ammunition or the assorted boy soldiers. He found Schundler looking through binoculars. He barely glanced at Karl when he said that he had a message. When Karl said where it was from, Schundler put down his binoculars and listened.

  “Hauptamtschef Schlunder you are to hold the bridge until General Wenck arrives with the 12th Army.” Karl said with as much authority as he could muster.

  “General Wenck is coming?” he asked, peering at Karl trying to read his face for the truth.

  “Yes, Hauptamtschef Schlunder, he is coming. The bridge is the only way out of Berlin and the Führer can be saved,” Karl said.

  “The Führer?” Schundler asked. “The Führer’s still in Berlin?”

  Karl nodded.

  “What is your reply, Hauptamtschef Schundler?”

  The man rubbed a speck of dust out of his eye and then spoke, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

  “Sir?” Karl asked, confused.

  “From the Bible: Joshua 1:9. Before the war I led a bible youth group. Now, I lead my sheep into the slaughter. My reply: I will hold the bridge until General Wenck’s army arrives. Do we know when he is due to arrive?” Schundler asked with a measure of desperation in his voice.

  Karl shook his head no. Schundler nodded and waved him off. Karl ran as fast as he could away from the bridge. When he hopped on Nico’s motorbike. He found Nico slumped over. Karl shook him. Nico woke up.

  “Sorry, I have to get more of those Pervitin tablets from the Doc.” Nico shook his arms and legs.

  “Pervitin?” Karl asked.

  “Makes you stay awake for days on end, but when sleep comes it hits you over the head like a shovel.” Nico started the bike. Karl closed his eyes and they descended into hell.

  When they arrived back at the bunker, Nico asked Dr. Gertrud for the Pervitin and was given a small handful for himself and Karl.

  Before they could leave, she stopped them. “Did you know Dr. Goebbels is planning on killing the children? They’re going to sedate them, then kill them with a cyanide capsule. Albert Speer is here to say goodbye to the Führer. I told him. He is going to try and take them to Bavaria.”

  Karl felt frightened for the girl he had seen earlier in the day. He had no idea who Albert Speer was but he silently hoped he could save the children.

  Karl bit into a quarter of the tablet. Within minutes the fog he was under lifted. He felt invincible. Nico and he went out again on another mission. This time to get more supplies for Dr. Gertrud.

  The scene in the bunker became increasingly chaotic. Waiting for orders outside the radio room, Karl passed the time by counting the beads of sweat dripping down the wall. He thought of his parents. Lena told him they had been shot in the town square. Was Lena alive? People ran in and out constantly. He got to three thousand beads when an outer door flung open. A blonde woman Karl had not seen before pulled open the door of the radio room. She was hysterical.

  “Have those orders gone out?”

  “Yes, Fräulein Braun,” the radio operator said. The woman ran, sobbing, back into the inner sanctum.

  Karl looked at the radio operator, who shrugged and said, “Her brother-in-law deserted. He’s been shot. Her sister is pregnant.”

  “Who was that woman?” Karl asked, wondering who the pretty woman with the stylish clothes was.

  “That’s the Führer’s girlfriend,” he said.

  “She’s going to be Frau Hitler today,” the other radio operator said.

  An hour later, the door swung open again. The eldest Goebbel’s girl was holding a plate of food for him.

  “Here,” she said, giving him the cake. “What’s your name?”

  “Karl,” he said, looking at her dark blonde braid. “What’s yours?”

  “Helga,” she said, sitting down next to him.

  “This is from the Führer’s wedding to Fräulein Braun,” she said, watching him eat.

  Karl nodded, his mouth full of food.

  “She is to have a party with champagne. She’s says after the Führer goes to bed she’s bringing a phonograph outside and she’s going to dance,” Helga said. “Would you like to go and see her dance?”

  Karl looked at Helga who bit her bottom lip. He thought about what Gertrud had said. “I could you meet you here, but won’t your parents notice?”

  “Mother spends all her time playing cards with herself and father is always yelling. Neither of of them will look at us.” Helga was about to say more, then stopped.

  Karl stared at the plate of food. He was about to tell Helga what Gertrud had said, but stopped.

  “I’ll be back tonight. Please be here.” Helga reached over to take the plate from Karl. She smiled, but her lips were quivering. “The war is lost, but no one will say anything.”

  Karl was dozing when Helga nudged him later that night. The Pervetin had worn off.

  “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

  “It’s me, Helga, do you want to see Frau Hitler dance?”

  “Sure.” He followed her into the outer courtyard. Around them the sky lit up with explosions.

  “It’s the end of the world,” Helga said.

  They hid behind the wall and watched the woman dance. She was in a frenzy; egged on by three other women and a couple of adjutants.

  “The other women are the Führer’s secretaries. They better leave the bunker because when the Russians come, it will be bad for them,” Helga said.

  “What about you? Shouldn’t you leave the bunker?” Karl asked, knowing full well what was in store for her.

  “I will die here. Mother said she doesn’t want to live in a world without the Führer and without National Socialism. They’re going to kill us after Frau Hitler and the Führer kill themselves. Frau Hitler is going to bite down on a cyanide capsule. She won’t shoot herself; she says she wants to be a beautiful bride,” Helga said, mesmerized by the dancing.

  “Do you want to die?” Karl asked.

  “I don’t have a choice. My body belongs to the state,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered.

  “I could save you,” Karl said.

  “How?” Helga asked curiously.

  “Run away with me,” Karl said. “Tonight.”

  Helga looked at him. A tear fell down her face. “But the others…”

  “I can take only you,” Karl said.

  “We should go back inside now. As soon as the Führer and Frau Hitler kill themselves. I will meet you by the radio room,” she said as she hurriedly left.

  At 1 am, the door swung open and one of the radio men shouted, “It’s all over kid, Feldmarchall Keitel just called from Flensberg. The entire Ninth Army is surrounded. Wenck’s not going to be able to break through to Berlin.”

  Karl fell back to sleep. Why was he so tired? He should leave, but he promised Helga he would wait for her. He would need to be rested so they could escape Berlin. He awoke three hours later to hear a dog barking. He got up and walked over to the lavatory. As he came out, he saw the Führer’s dog, Blondi, being held by two men. He moved closer and saw one of them giving the dog something and holding down his muzzle. The dog squirmed and twitched, then collapsed.

  “Get the Führer. Show him the cyanide capsule works,” one of the men said.

  Karl backed away and went back to his bench to sleep. The end was coming; he needed to sleep. An enormo
us ruckus woke him up. At first, Karl could not make out the words being said. Then he realized it was the Führer screaming, “I will never abandon Berlin.”

  The door to the radio room swung open again. “Kid, we’re leaving as soon as the Führer kills himself. You can come with us if you want.”

  Karl looked at them both, “Can we take Helga with us?” he asked. They liked Helga. They nodded.

  A shot was fired at 3:30 that afternoon. A short time later the inner door to the bunker was opened and two bodies wrapped in blankets were carried out. Karl saw Dr. Goebbels follow the bodies.

  “What are they doing with the bodies?” Karl asked.

  “They are dousing them with gasoline and burning them both,” one of the radiomen replied. “Get ready to leave.”

  After Goebbels and the men filed back in, the radiomen grabbed their rucksacks and nudged Karl.

  “C’mon kid, we need to go,” the radioman said.

  “I can’t go without Helga,” Karl replied.

  They shrugged and then left, leaving him alone. Hours passed. The chaos in the bunker continued. Emboldened by Hitler’s death, Karl walked down the bunker hall trying to find which room was Helga’s. He heard a woman’s voice pleading, “Just help me with them. Please, darling!”

  “No, I will not do it,” Karl heard the man reply and then a slam. Karl followed the sound and stood listening at the door.

  “We are giving you innoculations because there is an outbreak of disease,” the woman said.

  Karl could not make out anything. He heard the sound of a scuffle and then a child’s scream. Karl reached over. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.

  The door finally opened, a woman and a man emerged. It was not Dr. Goebbels. Karl slipped into the room. He looked at the children in their white nightgowns. He reached up to touch Helga and found her hand still warm. He looked closer, and saw bruises all over her face and neck.